


We walked across the dunes hand in hand

by Artikbear



Category: Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six (Video Games)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Sharing a Bed
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 03:48:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21421684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artikbear/pseuds/Artikbear
Summary: Thermite discovers something new about Maverick: he doesn't like cold nights. Then he discovers something about himself, too.
Relationships: Erik "Maverick" Thorn/Jordan "Thermite" Trace
Comments: 6
Kudos: 70





	We walked across the dunes hand in hand

**Author's Note:**

> Set around the time when Maverick was a new addition to the team.

To be fair, it's pretty much inevitable. There's something about this man that captures his interest, even though Thermite can't figure out exactly what, and he _ is _ the type to get easily fixated. 

He reminds him of a desert, Thermite supposes. The stillness of the scene might trick you into thinking there is nothing to see but endless scenery of sand, that it’s dull and inanimate, when in fact it's vibrant with concentrated energy in the form of intense heat. He’s seen that heat in Maverick before, noticed how it ignites his eyes and fuels his actions, and he appreciates that aspect of the man, naturally. 

Apart from these moments, Maverick remains a mystery. He’s not exactly talkative unless someone's giving him an excuse to talk about Kabul, a city that doubtlessly took his heart, but he's known to be an excellent listener, always providing just the right kind of reaction. Unfortunately, for Thermite it means Maverick's real character can't be judged from his answers either. Somehow figuring him out has become more or less a personal challenge, and Thermite tackles it with the same mindset he adopts when he’s trying to pin down the perfect formula of explosive chemicals that's particularly tricky; he won't give up until he finally gets it.

It isn't easy, though. Being deployed in a mission together within a small team should give him a better chance in theory, but so far he’s not gaining any more intel than he already has. They do talk a lot, mostly about the mission itself and how the torch to which Thermite himself made the necessary modifications is working in the field, but every time he tries to bring up more personal topics Maverick deflects them so smoothly that Thermite ends up doing the most of the talking without even realizing. On top of that, Thermite can’t be sure if the other man is really entertained by his jokes and anecdotes or merely pretending to be out of politeness, and being so good at it that his amusement feels genuine. This uncertainty makes him self-conscious about what he's saying and in result he's probably overdoing it, throwing one ridiculous comment after another, but real or not, his smiles are sweet and occasional laughters even better.

Right now, there is none of that—even Thermite isn’t in the mood for jokes, after a long night’s mission that was nowhere near fruitful, meaning they can’t go back home yet and they have to stand by until there’s another chance to strike. Thermite absolutely detests being forced to wait, and Maverick says he doesn’t mind the waiting part—of course, this is a man who used to make holes in the walls with a torch when it would take literal _hours_—but he doesn’t seem like he’s particularly enjoying the fact that they’re crawling back to their safe house at the break of dawn, empty-handed and fatigued. Zofia slaps them both in the backs good-naturedly, saying that they'll get it tomorrow, but Ash looks ready to kill if anyone do as much as look at her the wrong way so their part of the mission couldn't have been easy.

The bed, at least, feels like heaven. Thermite almost passes out the moment his head hits the pillow, so it takes him a moment or two to register the sound that eventually pulls him out of his sleep. Someone is knocking on his door, too softly for it to be Ash. He curses under his breath and gets up to answer the door, ends up finding a distressed-looking Maverick standing in front of it, and oh, isn’t that something new. 

“Can I sleep here? The heater in my room isn’t working and I can’t sleep when it’s cold,” he blurts out, and Thermite wonders if he’s usually this straightforward when he’s asking favors or if it’s because he knows Thermite prefers it that way.

“I thought Kabul was pretty cold in winters too?” He asks with genuine curiosity, his irritation at being woken up dissolving almost immediately. Maverick nods grimly, shifting his weight.

“Yes, and I hated it there too. Look, you can say no if you're uncomfortable, I understand—"

"Do you snore?" Thermite interrupts him mid-sentence because this is unarguably an important question. Maverick blinks.

“I… actually have no idea.” His confession sounds slightly embarrassed. Thermite considers it and its implication for a moment and shrugs. 

"Well, if no one has complained about it to your face you're good enough. Come on in. No, wait, go get your blanket first because I’m not sharing mine."

“Thanks,” he starts, visibly relieved and Thermite just waves him off with a grin. He returns with some of his belongings, and the sight of him standing in the corridor sheepishly with his blanket and pillow in his arms is just something Thermite has never imagined seeing.

"This feels like a goddamn pajama party," he notes with a chuckle, and watches the corners of Maverick's mouth twitch upward. In his well-worn grey hoodie and sweatpants, with the edge in his eyes softened by sleep and his smile open, he looks more at ease and less guarded than ever. Thermite is at loss with what to do with this new version of him.

Then Maverick begins to spread his blanket on the floor by his bed, _ what the fuck, _ so he stops stealing sideway glances in favor of gaping at him openly.

"What are you doing?"

"Preparing to sleep…?" He sounds just as confused as Thermite is, and that's when it becomes clear there is a huge misunderstanding between them. Thermite shakes his head disbelievingly. 

"You thought I'd make you sleep on the floor? No way. No fucking way."

"I'm perfectly fine with sleeping on the floor," Maverick protests weakly, but now Thermite is glaring at him as if he's taking offense from his assumption.

"My room, my rule. The bed is big enough for both of us so you're sleeping on it too. End of the discussion. No buts."

The dumbfounded expression looks immensely out of place on Maverick's face, and he opens his mouth only to shut them again. Thermite takes it as a victory, and sits down on the side of the bed so there's still a plenty of space.

"Come up so I can turn off the lights already. I won't be denied of my beauty sleep any longer."

Maverick snorts and brings his pillow and blanket to the bed, but hesitates to make further action. Thermite decides not to press further and waits until he finally gives up and climbs in, carefully positioning himself on the far edge of the bed.

"You're gonna fall off the moment either of us move," comments Thermite, amused, and Maverick shifts closer somewhat reluctantly. There's still some space left between them, and none of their limbs are touching. Thermite feels a pang of disappointment that he can't explain.

Still, there's a certain odd feeling at being so physically close to another human being that he barely has any personal information, even though the warmth he exudes is quite pleasant. The only reason Thermite can fall back asleep in a matter of minutes is because he's thoroughly exhausted, and he has no doubt it would be the same for Maverick. 

Which means when he's woken up once again his curses are far more heartfelt, this time by the chilly air of the room touching his exposed skin, the heating system succeeding at nothing more than making the coldness a bit more bearable. Also, why does his backside feel bare? 

He turns to his right and finds out that Maverick has taken hold of both the blankets and rolled off to the edge of the bed again, leaving Thermite bereft of the cover and shivering violently. He tries to tug one of them free but the other man is clutching them with an iron grip, unyielding. He has to nudge Maverick awake, and he startles away like he's burnt before whispering an embarrassed _ sorry _ and hurriedly returning the blanket.

"If you're sorry then do me a favor and fucking come closer," Thermite mumbles as an reply, his voice thick with sleep. It's a miracle he hasn't fallen off the bed yet, considering how at least one of his legs must be dangling in the air. And if he does, it's only going to wake Thermite _ again _ and he's not letting it happen.

Maverick does as he's told to, and this time he ends up closer to the center of the bed than he originally was, and yet he's continuing to shift closer almost imperceptibly. It occurs to Thermite's half-awake mind that he must be unconsciously drawn by the warmth, the realization making him smile against his pillow. 

Then their hands touch, light brush of fingers, and Maverick is flinching back again, hushed apology already on his lips, so Thermite takes his hand on pure impulse, traps it securely in his own grip. Maverick tenses briefly but doesn't try to break the hold, and after a moment lets himself relax again. Thermite sees it as an opportunity and laces their fingers together. They fit against each other nicely, and something in his stomach does a wild flip.

"Trace, what are we doing?" Maverick asks, his tone somewhere between being wary and being curious. Still he's not attempting to take his hand away.

"So that you won't hog blanket again," is the excuse Thermite's sleepy brain hurriedly provides. "Or roll off the bed for real this time. You know, Eliza is using the downstair bedroom and you really don't want to mess with her when she's sleep-deprived."

"Ah, so this is a necessary measure?" asks Maverick, and he can almost hear the smile in his words, concealed by the darkness of the room, and it _ has _ to be real, because otherwise Thermite is very much fucked up.

"Yes." He doesn't know why all of a sudden he's feeling this desperate, over something as small as holding hands. Probably it's just because this is Maverick, an enigma he's been trying to solve for weeks, and how dumb he was, thinking his interest was purely intellectual, never suspecting that there was something more to it than plain curiosity.

"Okay, then," Maverick murmurs quietly, giving him an open permission, and this finally allows him to calm his nerves a little. Thermite closes his eyes and focuses on the hand in his, warm and foreign, with occasional burn marks matching his own. It feels nice, even if the whole situation is rather unexpected, and he'd rather reflect on the meaning of it tomorrow when his mind is more clear and suitable for a task like that. _ God, _ he's tired. His sleep has been chased away too many times this night and therefore it's hesitant to come back, but when it does, it's irresistible.

When Maverick bids him good night, a bit too late as if his thought has been occupied otherwise, Thermite just squeezes his hand once as a reply because he's already slipping underneath, with a faint, stupid grin on his face.

**Author's Note:**

> This just... happened, and I had to get it out of my system before finishing and posting other WIPs. I love them so much ;-;
> 
> Come visit me on [tumblr](https://artikbear.tumblr.com/)! Also kudos and comments are always much appreciated <3


End file.
